Looking for lies with an experienced, albeit jaundiced eye, a slight pause, an eye blink, a nervous twitch, and/or change in body position, he was trained to do that.

"Yes," said the woman with a cold and unrevealing stare, looking as if she was bluffing, while playing Texas Hold 'em poker.

Only, she wasn't bluffing. Unblinking and not moving, the real deal, revealing no tells, she was a player and was very hard to read.

Smoking hot, she was so very young and so very beautiful. A sometimes model and B movie actress, with her own fire burning down deep inside of her, she was the type that could set off the smoke alarm without even smoking. Already the temperature in the room was ten degrees warmer than it was before she walked in and sat down.

"How did you come to know the deceased?"

"Paul. His name was Paul Robinson," said Jill saying it with an air of respectfulness.

"Sorry, but you didn't answer my question. How did you come to know Mr. Robinson?"

"He was a good man and lived a kind and gentle life. He was a quality human being, a beloved husband, a much loved father, and a respected grandfather," she said slowly and methodically crossing her legs.

Had there been someone sitting in front of her, she would have flashed them her panties, that is, if she was wearing any. Most times she didn't wear panties, but today she was wearing bright white, silk, bikini panties.

"And," he asked her again for the third time. "How did you come to know Mr. Robinson?"

"He was a quality man. I don't waste my time with men who aren't," she said giving him a look that said that she didn't think that he was a quality man without having to say it.

"Yes, yes," he said with impatience in his voice, "I have all of that. He was a wonderful human being, but how did you come to know Mr. Robinson?"

Ready to catch her, already looking at her with suspicion, the detective looked at her with an unblinking stare, as if waiting for her to make a mistake.

"His family called me to meet him," she said matter of fact.

She looked at the detective through big, blue eyes with cool coyness, eyes that any man or any woman could get lost in on a beach in San Tropez, before falling to one knee and proposing their eternal love and undying faithfulness, that is, until she killed them with love and sex. There was nothing coy about this one. That was for sure. Bi-sexual in her sexual orientation, whether her lover was male or female, this Angel of mercy, was a minx.

"So this was your first time meeting him and you didn't know him before this. Is that right?"

"Yes, his family contacted me through my web site, Angel of Mercy dot com," she said looking away from him to look around the room, before she finished answering his question. "I didn't know him before this."

"I see," he said taking notes, even though their meeting was recorded for sound and video. "Why? Why you?"

Leaning back in his chair, he paused to look at the mirrored wall, before nodding his head in that direction. No doubt, whoever was standing back there was checking out her web site.

"I imagine Paul heard of me or maybe saw me in a movie I made, perhaps, and wanted to talk to me," she said softening. She was the type of women you'd remortgage your house, divorce your wife, and abandon your children for the chance to have her in your life. "He was a nice man and I liked him," she said with a soft and sincere smile.

"You expect me to believe that Mr. Robinson contacted you just to talk to you?" He waited for her to respond and when she didn't, he asked another question. "Or did he contact you to have sex with you?"

"Now, Detective, seriously, what man, who isn't a gay man and who is in their right mind, wouldn't want to have sex with me? Look at me," she said sticking out her chest and when she did, her blouse opened enough for anyone looking to see the top of her breasts but not enough to see her nipples, and they were all looking. "Besides, what two consenting adults do behind closed doors is not a crime and none of your business, Detective."

"It sure is a crime, if you were there with the intent and knowledge that what you did will be directly responsible for another's death. Under the letter of the law, that's premeditated murder. If you are there with the intent and knowledge that what you do with be indirectly responsible for another's death, that's manslaughter."

"Prove it," she said challenging him by pushing his button, as if checking his king in a game of chess.

"As part of a homicide investigation, it sure is my business what you and Mr. Robinson did or didn't do behind closed doors. Did you know that Mr. Robinson was terminally ill?"

"I'm not a medical doctor Detective. Other than him telling me, how could I possibly know what his medical diagnosis is or prognosis for life was? That's personal information that he chose not to share with me," she said moving her head to flip her hair out of the way, as if in readiness to lean down to take a cock in her mouth. She was just so damn sexy that no matter what she did or how she moved, as if a siren, she flashed sex across the room. "Besides people die every day from heart attacks before, during, and after having sex. Do you consider those homicides and do you harass them, too, with unfounded accusations of premeditated murder and manslaughter?"

It was hard to tell whose feathers were being ruffled, but it was safe to say that they were both getting a little heated in their dialogue.

"So you admit that you had sexual relations with Mr. Robinson."

"It's no secret that I did. You're technician swabbed my mouth," said Jill moving her head up and back, as if expelling a puff of smoke from her cigarette, even though she wasn't smoking literally but was smoking figuratively. "You already have the semen evidence to that fact. Yeah, I sucked his big, old, wrinkled cock and he exploded a load of sixty-three-year-old cum in my mouth," she said leaning forward and staring in his face, "and I swallowed," she said with a haughty laugh. "I didn't break any laws by having sex with Paul and by giving him a blowjob, did I?"

When she leaned forward her blouse opened and she watched him glance down to look at her exposed breasts. She was such a tease. The type of woman that needed to be slapped around a bit, before being made love to, she'd probably enjoy the pain before the pleasure.

"No, you didn't break any laws having sexual relations with Mr. Robinson," he said, "that is, unless he paid you to have sex with him and to suck his big, old wrinkled, sixty-three-year-old cock. Then, that's prostitution," he said leaning back in his chair and smiling, as if to say, 'Gotcha'.

Still leaning to forward to make sure he got a good look, Jill looked down her top at her tits and the detective's eyes followed hers. Then, she looked up catching him leering at her, again.

"Do you like what you see, Detective?" Jill held open the top of her blouse and peered down again to see what he could see. She followed his eyes with hers, before letting out a loud laugh.

"So, tell me," said the detective changing the subject and getting back on track. "What did Mr. Robinson hear about you?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask him, but with him being dead, I guess you can't do that, now can you?"

"Don't play games with me sister or I'll throw your ass in jail."

"On what charge, Detective?"

"Helping someone to commit suicide. That's against the law, too."

"Suicide? Don't make me laugh. If you could prove that, you would have charged me with that already. Besides, the District Attorney would be laughed out of court presenting a sexual act between two consenting adults as suicide," she smile with what she was going to say next. "Maybe you're wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, or significant other wants to kill themselves after having sex with you, but I can assure you that, when I finished with him, after Paul fucked me and I sucked him off, I put a big smile on old Paul's face. After I was done with him, if only having the memory of being with me to masturbate over later, he had everything to live for and no reason to kill himself. To be honest with you Detective, I was hoping he'd be my new boyfriend and I was saddened by his untimely demise."

"I'll ask you my question again. What did Mr. Robinson hear about you?"

I imagine he heard that I'm a kind, loving, and sexual woman, Detective," she said slowly crossing her legs the other way. She watched the detective look down, as her skirt moved higher. "I didn't solicit Mr. Robinson, if that's what you're implying. Mr. Robinson had asked his family to contact me. Perhaps, you should ask the family what Mr. Robinson heard about me. Perhaps, you should ask them, what he said about me."

"I see," said the detective. "And how much were you paid to--"

"Fuck you! I have rights, you know," she said suddenly copping a attitude. "I have the right not to answer any more of your stupid, leading questions without having my attorney present. I'm making your job easier by fully cooperating," she said staring directly into the camera, "and all you're doing is insulting me. How dare you? I'll sue this police department for defamation of character and libel for what your captain has already said about me and what was quoted about me in the press."

"We haven't charged you with a crime, Jill, although, if you insist, I can charge you with prostitution and keep you here, until the judge orders bail," he said looking down at his report, before looking up at her.

"Go ahead, and I'll add false arrest to my growing list of civil suit charges. I guarantee that I will walk away with a nice out of court settlement from the city, along with your badge, after this is done and you'll walk away with nothing but an erection. There was no crime here, Detective."

"Have I threatened you Detective? Do you feel threatened by me? No threats, just intentions. If you force me into a corner, I'll have my attorney file a civil suit against you, your captain, this department, and the city."

"Listen, the way that I see it is that you're just a witness in a sudden and unfortunate death and we're just having a friendly chat, a fact finding conversation, to make sure that no crime was committed in the untimely death of--"

"Untimely death? The man had terminal cancer."

"So, you admit that you knew he had terminal cancer?"

"Yes."

"Did you know that before you agreed to have sex with him?"

"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't. You'd have to ask the dead man. Besides, now that it's splashed all over the front page, him having terminal cancer is public record and can no longer be used against me in a court of law, can it?"

"I didn't say anything about a court of law," said the detective with a victorious smile, as if she had made an admission of guilt.

Yet, typical for him and for anyone whether having sex with her or just a conversation, he was jumping the gun. Most men are so sexually charged around her that they've already started and finished having sex with her, before she's even warmed and ready. One in a million, she was every man's and some women's sexual fantasy. Besides her beauty, brains, and body, there was just something so captivating about her that people lose their composure around her.

"Like everyone else, Detective, I read the newspaper every day and his doctor gave him a few more months of misery to live," she said tossing back her head and her hair, as if she was letting out another puff of smoke from her cigarette, after having hot, sweaty sex. "Besides, what I do isn't prostitution, it's an act of mercy, kindness, and love."

When she tossed back her hair like that, every man looked at her, no doubt, as if they were the one having sex with her. When she tossed back her hair like that, her breasts jiggled and by the impressions her nipples made in her blouse, it was obvious to all that she wasn't wearing a bra.

"So, tell me again, Jill, how did Mr. Robinson die?"

This time, the police detective didn't look up at her. Instead he looked down at his notes. He allowed the camera to record her reaction to his question, but there was no reaction to record. She remained calmly unflustered sitting there, as if she was sitting at a poker table at a Vegas casino after pushing her chips all in.

Sergeant Gomez and Sergeant Morris watched the interrogation from behind the mirrored glass wall in the adjourning room.

"The newspapers labeled her as the Valentine murderess, but she's been dubbed the Jack Kevorkian of the elderly with the nickname, Jill Kevorkian," said Sergeant Gomez. "The grim reaper never looked so sexy. She kills them with sex on whatever special day they want, Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries, even Valentine's Day and guarantees results or their money back," he said with a laugh. "What should be deemed as a suicide, a murder, or manslaughter, the insurance company is forced to pay the life insurance policy, when the coroner deems the death natural causes from heart failure, after having a too strenuous of an activity, namely sex."

"A Black Widow spider is more like it," said Sergeant Morris. "Don't they eat their mates?"

"I think that's the praying mantis. The female bites off the head of her lover to make him ejaculate and impregnate her," said Sergeant Gomez. "But she didn't eat him."

"Actually, she did eat him," said Sergeant Morris reading from the report. "The forensic technician recovered semen evidence from her mouth and is testing it to see if it matches that of the deceased. No doubt it will," said Sergeant Morris.

"Poor bastard never knew what hit him," said Sergeant Gomez.

"Poor bastard? You mean lucky bastard," said Morris. "For a chance to have sex with her, I'd be willing to die."

"Yeah, well, that's not the way that I wanna die," said Gomez.

"At least my wife has the courtesy to wait to bite my head off, after I cum in her mouth and turn my back to her, just before I fall asleep. What about me, she says? What about you, I say? I allowed you to blow me, didn't I? And that's when the fight starts," said Sergeant Morris with a laugh.

"You're just a swell guy," said Sergeant Gomez.

"Still, there's no crime in having sexual intercourse and giving someone oral sex," said Morris. "They're both consenting adults. If you ask me that old man was a lucky bastard to have sex with someone like her. Look at her. She's gorgeous. She's best looking woman I've ever seen in my life."

"Suspected of being directly or indirectly responsible for twelve deaths, she's never been charged with murder or even manslaughter," said Gomez. "There may have been a crime committed, if she was visiting these men with the expressed knowledge and criminal intent that having sex with her would kill them."

Sergeant Morris opened the coroner's preliminary report.

"I dunno, try proving that in a court of law," said Morris with a laugh. "It says here that he died with a smile on his face," he said reading from the coroner's report with a chuckle. "That's how I want to die. I want to die happy and if I can die from a sexy, beautiful woman giving me a blowjob, after fucking the shit out of me, that's how I want to go."

"You're crazy," said Sergeant Gomez. "I could never disrespect my family, especially my wife by allowing another woman in my bed. I'd rather go quietly in the night in peace and in honor."

"Yeah, well, the dead guy died quietly in the night and in peace with a big assed smile on his face. If I consider her anything, I consider her an Angel of mercy, just like how she purports herself on her web site," said Morris. "What she does is to ease men's pain, and women's pain, for that matter, by giving them a final few hours of sexual ecstasy and utter happiness. If you look closely, you can see her wings," he said pointing at her through the mirror with a chuckle.

"Stop staring at her tits, you pervert," said Gomez. "Forget about a happy ending," said Gomez, "she's one broad I'd never want to see coming to my door. She's evil to do what she does for money. That's just wrong. I don't care if all of her victims had a terminal illness, she has no soul to accept money for killing someone with sex. Whether man or woman, she has no preference. I could never have sex with old people."

"We have no proof of her accepting money for her services and if we did, all we could charge her with is prostitution. The DA would have a hard time winning even a manslaughter conviction, when she was contacted by the family with the consent of the deceased. The way that I see it is that there's no crime here, just an old guy choosing when and how he wanted to die and his family happily willing to accommodate him for the insurance money," said Sergeant Morris.

"I don't have a clue how he died. You're going to have to ask the coroner. All that I can say to you is that there was no murder or manslaughter committed, Detective, and he certainly didn't commit suicide before, during, or after I had sex with him. I told you that already."

"Is that so? Well, we'll see about that," said the cop. "Start talking. Tell me everything."

"Paul's family called me and I agreed to go to his house for a drink. With Paul being so sexy and persuasive and me being so horny and sexually frustrated, one thing led to another and the next thing I knew I was in bed comforting him. You know how that happens, when a mature, sexually experience man takes advantage of a poor, young, innocent woman for sex," she said with a laugh. "Then, after I left his house, I found out later that he died and that's it. That's all that happened."

"Don't give me that crap. Innocent woman my ass," he said. "You let me be the judge of that. Fill in the details for me, so that I can decide whether or not to charge you. Start from the beginning."

"Details? You only want details, so that you can go home later and masturbate over Paul fucking me and me sucking his big, hairy, old, wrinkled dick. Is that it?"

"Oh, gees, here comes the good part," said Sergeant Morris to Sergeant Gomez from behind the mirror. "She already has Wally pegged as the pervert that he is," he said with a laugh.

"I went to Paul's house and we had a drink. He told me that he was dying of cancer and didn't have much longer to live. He said he had some regrets and wanted to go out with a bang, before he died. He wanted to experience some of the things that he's wondered about, but never had the opportunity to do."

"Such as?"

"He said he wanted to know what it was like to have intimate relations with a much younger woman, just like that movie, The Bucket List with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know the movie. Don't waste my time with things I already know. Tell me something that I don't know."

"Okay," she said tossing her hair again and giving the camera a sexy look, as if she was about to read a script and audition for a part in a movie. "Only he wanted to replay the scene in Nine 1/2 Weeks. He wanted to pretend that I was Kim Basinger, which is why he asked me to wear a blonde wig."

"Holy shit. Oh, baby, talk about sexy erotic games, I remember that movie, when Mickey Rourke took the ice cube and--" said Morris.

"Shh, I wanna hear this," said Gomez

"Paul died a happy man. He was only 63-years-old when he died, too young to die, and I made his last moments on this Earth happy ones. I had no idea he was going to croak right there, a few minutes after I left his place. I had sex with a man who voluntarily asked me to have sex with him. Directly or indirectly, I'm not responsible for his death. When I was done with him, he was happy. That's all I know. Now, whether it was his plan to die happy, when seeing his maker and/or seeing his wife in Heaven again, that's something he never divulged to me. Maybe if you asked his family they'd--"